


Some Are Fools For Slowing Down

by Fangirlingmanaged



Series: Letter from Hell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Army, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Can't help falling in love, Deployment, Inspired by Twist and Shout - gabriel & standbyme, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Misunderstandings, Please Kill Me, Soldier Dean, True Love, right in the feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-29 21:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5142467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlingmanaged/pseuds/Fangirlingmanaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can't allow Dean to face deployment alone. Especially not before he's confessed his feelings for the green eyed man. <br/>His writing skills come in handy for once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Are Fools For Slowing Down

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Twist and Shout feels. this fanfiction keeps fucking with my life.

[This freaking video oh my god](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eg1qBh3XwnA)

_Dean’s deployment date looms over them in the night of the twelfth of July. He’d spent the whole day with his family and loved ones, hoping to fulfill his quota of love and comfort before he has to face the harshness of war. The worst of it is, perhaps, the grave look on Castiel’s face the whole time Dean tries to joke the tension away. The others do a good job of hiding their fear and anxiety, but Dean can read Cas like an open book. They’ve been best friends for thirteen years after all. Dean knows Cas wishes he’d picked an easier path of life, but that had never been for him. That road was for Sammy. Dean was, like his father before him, bred to be a soldier. Obedience was all he knew._

_There is one thing, however, that he knows he has to do. He_ has _to tell Cas. If anything were to happen to him there is no greater regret he would die with. So by the end of the night, when the cars begin to pull out of Bobby’s front driveway Dean takes Cas by the arm and guides him to the salvage yard. Amongst the decay of rusted metal and once beautiful machinery Dean confesses the innermost workings of his mind. Of his heart. He’d hoped, foolishly as he is proven mere seconds later, that Cas would be willing to try even if he was getting deployed the very next day._

_Cas’s “You can’t,” said in a too wobbly and broken voice are all the confirmation to his darkest fears that he needs. His heart breaks, in a million different places, and he bolts. He’s a Winchester, of course he bolts, and ignores the screams from his family as he makes his way to his room. His packed things, the few essentials he’s taking with him, seem like the worst proof of sin at that moment. It’s because of what he’s done that his friendship with Cas is now over. He’s so goddamn stupid! If he’d kept his mouth shut he could have had Cas, his angel of Thursday, his guardian seraph, through his time in hell. And now he has lost him._

_He pretends the moisture running down his cheeks is sweat when he hears the old rumble of a beige continental pulling out the driveway._

                                                                                                                                                               07-13-15

Dear Dean,

Gabriel suggested that I write you a text telling you how much I’d miss you when you’re gone, but I believe you know me enough to know that’s not my type of thing. I’m not very good with technology, and anyway, a text seems so extremely impersonal given the circumstances don’t you think? If anything a phone call might have been better. I might even have bought into the notion of romanticism which would lead one to believe that you’d be able to listen to it as many times as you want or need, but that’s impossible. The circumstances, then, leave me with only one option given the fact that I can’t tell you this out loud.

Forgive me for that.

I suppose I could wax poetic about what I mean to say to you, twist it into something romantic and… what would you call it? Chick-flick-y? I know you enough to realize that would turn all of this into a mess, though, so I’ve decided to write it as plainly as I possibly can. I’m sorry if I ramble as I say it, but I don’t think I can put it into words just yet. I may never be able to do so.

I suppose I might start by saying thank you. For being my best friend for as long as you have been. I could not have gone through any of the changes I did without a friend, and I am extremely blessed that it was you. I know you don’t believe in the mysticisms of faith, but I can’t help but think that some forgiving guardian angel put you in my path when we were children. I want to thank you for helping me be the boy, man, I am today. If I’m pursuing my career as a writer like my father before me it is because of you so thank you for that. I also need to thank you for loving me as you have done so far, and even going further than that by giving me your heart so completely. I hope you know I have given you mine as intensely as well.

I’m sorry for botching your confession as much as I did last night. I never meant to hurt you, and I hope you know that if I could go back in time I would have punched myself for hurting you. That was never my intention. I was merely too shell shocked to realize that the words coming out of your mouth were real; if you must know, I have dreamt about them every night for the last six years. Since the beginning of my comprehension of romantic love, Dean, it has always been you. It never seemed to be the same for you, though, so you might comprehend how that came as a surprise for me. _Completely from left field,_ as you might say with your colorful baseball analogies. I was blindsided, utterly and completely, by the unfiltered confessions you were gifting me with. I’m so sorry, Dean, if I ever made you doubt what I felt for you.

Part of me was also afraid, and it isn’t until now that I begin to realize that fact. I love so completely, Dean, and now you are quite literally wading into danger. Your morality and need take you in that path, I know, but I can’t help but be afraid for you. For us. For what am I if you’re no longer with me, Dean? _There is no me without you, Dean Winchester._ If I had known of your true feelings for me perhaps I would have tried harder to keep you here with me where we are both safe. I might have convinced you that we could realize all your goals without the need of being away from each other. It is too late now, I realize, but I can still do one good thing.

When you’re over there, and you have a minute alone, I hope you think of me. Under the stars, in a cold desert night, I hope you realize that I am with you no matter what. That I will be sleeping alone, too, with a picture of us on my nightstand. I hope you know that there will be someone waiting for you, for however long you take, and will be willing to accept you with whatever the war does to you. I know you’re scared, Dean. Not only of what could happen over here while you are gone, but of the things you’re about to see. Of the things you’re about to do. I hope that you believe me enough to remember that you are the best man I have ever met. The best man I will ever meet no matter how young you are. I wish you would be going to school with me in the next few months. You’re so young, Dean. I wish for so many things now that are too late for me to rectify, but please if there is anything you remember from this letter I hope you remember this: my answer is yes.

My answer is and will always be you. Be safe, Dean, and come back to us. Come back to me.

Love,

The boy who was too stupid to realize how much he loved you.  

_In a desolate boarding room, a lone soldier looks at a crumpled piece of paper shaking in his hands. It might be from a loved one, it might be bad news. Hell, it might even be his deployment letter that still doesn’t seem real even though he’s sitting there decked in the army’s finest greens. His hair is already cut short, and there’s a world-weary darkness to his face that has marred its handsomeness way too soon. From an outsiders view it’s impossible to tell the journey of the letter. From the shaking hand of a school boy, to the boisterous journey from a candy-eating older brother, to the hands of a bribed-with-twenty-dollars flight attendant until it reached the eyes of the lone soldier._

_One thing an outsider_ can _see, though, is the angelic smile that lights up his features. The tremendous happiness that seems to illuminate that whole room. As he folds the letter and carefully puts it in his pocket the whole room seems to be infused with something like hope._


End file.
